


Lantern Lights

by shadow_of_egypt (Shachaai)



Series: Nihon [4]
Category: Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles
Genre: Gen, M/M, Post-Series, Pre-Nihon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-20
Updated: 2010-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-10 04:58:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/95737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shachaai/pseuds/shadow_of_egypt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chinese New Year in a new world brings back old memories, and the usual insanity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lantern Lights

**Author's Note:**

> Set in a modern world much like our own.

Kurogane was making his grouchy face again. About five metres away Fai sighed, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, and laid a hand on Syaoran’s unoccupied shoulder (the other was taken up by Mokona) beside him. When Syaoran looked up, called away from his perusal of the market stall before them and its bright decorations, Fai tilted a head in Kurogane’s direction, knowing Syaoran could see his mentor through the crowds, and the telltale face he was pulling. (It wasn’t like it was particularly difficult – Kurogane stood a good two heads taller than most of the men around, and his expressions were particularly distinctive.) Someone was annoying dear, sweet-tempered Kurogane again – one of the stallholders by the looks of it, Kurogane bristling as the man twittered at him, hemmed in by the evening crowds.

Fai wove his way through the people thronging the market, safe in the knowledge that Syaoran knew where he was going, and would probably follow. The fat, many-coloured lanterns hanging from the edges of the stalls lit up the coming night with pools of warmth, light catching the gold thread sewn into the pretty robes the Tomoyo of this world had given Fai, a New Year’s gift. She’d outfitted all of them, including Mokona, insisting that the group be her guests for dinner that night (“No-one spends New Year’s alone!”) and accept new clothes. (Kurogane was just sincerely grateful that no-one had invented the sewing machine in Nihon yet – the Tsukoyomi would have a field day with it, and his wardrobe would suffer her experimentation as a result. At least if the princess did things by hand the clothing she produced came out at a slower rate.)

“Is something the matter, darling~?” Fai took Kurogane’s arm as soon as he was close enough to the man, discreetly bumping someone pushing rather rudely in from the side out of the way with his hip so he had comfortable Kuro-clinging space. He made sure to smile brightly and flutter his eyelashes all the while, sparkling innocence for every onlooker – save Kurogane, who growled at the ‘darling’, and tried to immediately dislodge him. Really, the man just didn’t appreciate the effort Fai went through for him, sometimes.

_  
“Mage -” _Kurogane put up a valiant effort every time, he really did, but it ultimately got him absolutely nowhere and nothing in the long run, except for a small case of The Sulks. (But of course, ninjas didn’t _sulk._)

“Sir?” Fai prompted of the stallkeeper, ignoring his protesting beloved with a skill born of much practice.

“Ah…” The man wilted slightly under the look Fai was giving him – and then outright _withered _when the blond’s gaze chanced upon the proclamation in the stall’s background, guaranteeing love for lonely hearts. “I – er – ah…”

Kurogane actually stopped trying to pry Fai off of his person to watch the one who’d been harassing him cower before Fai’s particularly lovely smile – the one that promised swift, immediate pain if there wasn’t a good and ready explanation instantly forthcoming, and sent a low, delicious _purr _scudding straight down Kurogane’s spine (at least, when said smile wasn’t directed at him. Brave – or stupid – was the fool who remained obtrusive when ‘big kitty’ got out his claws).   

Fai smiled. And glared. And smiled whilst glaring. “Well?”

The stallkeeper – the _matchmaker – _wilted, withered, and wisely gave in, chancing a weak glance at Kurogane – who was now very tellingly amused. “…My apologies, sir. I didn’t know you were courting.”

“It’s alright,” Fai spoke before Kurogane had the chance to, back to grace and warmth and actually rather _sharp _nails digging through the sleeve of Kurogane’s robe – not as elaborate as Fai’s because Kurogane rather resented being used for dress-up. (He’d had enough of that in Nihon.) “It’s not as if Kuro-tan here really flaunts the fact.” Fai felt the ninja _twitch _at the nickname, the matchmaker before them pasting on a blandly insincere smile as Fai snuggled against Kurogane’s arm and acted out the part of perfect marital bliss. “He’s grown so used to it after all this time – we eloped, you see, because our families were so against our union -”

"How very romantic." The matchmaker wanted rid of them.

"Isn't it?" Fai gave a heartfelt sigh, and affected a lovestruck gaze up at the one he'd apparently run off with. "Kuro-poo just has a heart of gold."

'Kuro-poo' looked very much like he wanted to throttle him.

“Our marriage was a one of secrecy -”

Kurogane clamped a hand over his lover’s mouth – the artificial one, and it was _cold. _“We’re going now.”

Fai offered a muffled complaint, but the matchmaker looked relieved to see them going, turning his attentions to the young man who’d been waiting at the side during the small drama – _Syaoran. _“What about you, young sir-?”

Fai wiggled loose of Kurogane, reached out and grabbed the back of Syaoran’s collar, and _yanked _the youth backwards.

Syaoran flailed. Mokona _squeaked _from somewhere inside the boy’s clothes. Kurogane groaned. The matchmaker stared.

“My _son,” _Fai told the man rather primly, not relinquishing his grip on Syaoran’s person even as the boy began to turn a charming shade of red, “is already taken.” And then Fai marched the whole ‘family’ off, a blaze of wounded affront amidst the festivities.

The matchmaker stared after them for a few moments. The group were indeed all lovely, but they all seemed to be delinquents.

 

#

 

This world’s Daidouji Tomoyo – their hostess – greeted the group at the entrance of her mother’s fine estate when they returned, her hair put-up prettily and threaded with flowers. “Did you have fun at the market?” There were lanterns in the trees in the garden behind her – but these were electronic, they’d been told, as there’d been a small fire a few years beforehand when the wind had blown too strongly.

Kurogane stalked past her, and headed for the main house. “We’re never going again.”

The girl looked at Fai, Syaoran and Mokona inquiringly. “Did something happen?”

Syaoran rubbed the back of his head. “Well -”

“_Kuro-pii~!” _Fai was already swanning off after the grumbling Kurogane, cheerful trill at complete odds with the lightning-flecked cloud of doom hovering over the ninja. “What happens if your new wife wants to go shopping there next year…?”

“For the _last_ time,_ I’m not getting married!!”_

“I’m sure your lady love will be _most _heartbroken to hear that. Did you tell matchmaker-san that you weren’t in for the commitment when you approached him?”

_  
“He_ approached _me-!”_

Syaoran looked back to Tomoyo, Mokona solemn-eyed in his arms, and finally answered her question. “…Nothing out of the ordinary, Tomoyo-san.”

The girl smiled at him. “I’m glad you had fun, Li-kun. Do you want to come in and freshen up now? The other guests will be arriving in about an hour or so.”

Syaoran nodded and went in beside their host, mature, responsible.

Fai and Kurogane continued to bicker in the background.

 

#

 

“It’s not tight enough.”

“Of course it’s tight enough!”

“No, Kuro-kun, it has to be _tighter.”_

“If it gets any tighter I might as well be wearing a goddamn corset – and _no, _don’t give me that look; there is no way in _hell _I am ever being forced into one of those things, however much you whine.”

“What about a skirt, then? Kuro-wan could show off his nice legs.”

_  
“No.”  
_

Fai laughed, low and rich, curling his arms around Kurogane’s waist from behind and standing on the tips of his feet to rest his chin on his lover’s shoulder, his weight pushing forwards against Kurogane’s back. The mirror before them reflected their figures back at them, Kurogane in long robes of black decorated with red birds, Fai in shades of red and gold, hair loose about his face. “Kuro-rin looks very handsome.”

Kurogane coloured slightly at the compliment and the knowing look in Fai’s mismatched eyes, but covered it up as he plucked irritably at the sash and rope around his waist – which Fai was sneakily defending, by splaying his hands across them. “This is still too tight.”

“It’s how you wear it,” Fai reprimanded lightly. Out of the whole of the group, he usually was the best to consult about those sort of things, making it a point to learn the fashions of each new world they landed in – Fai said it was so they fitted in better in each new place; Kurogane claimed it was so the mage knew just _what _exactly to wear to draw the most attention and thoroughly embarrass the rest of them. (And _no, _the manjuu’s opinion didn’t count.) “Now, hush and stop fidgeting,” he batted at Kurogane’s hands, “ogling is in progress.”

Kurogane refused to go down without a fight – or at least, a good round of complaining. “If I wear it like this, I’m not going to be able to _breathe_.”

Fai was unsympathetic. “Then don’t breathe through your stomach.”

“You’re as bad as Tomoyo.”

Fai smiled. “I can’t sew as well as Tomoyo-chan.”

“For which we should all be immensely grateful.” Fai laughed at that, falling back onto the heels of his feet and moving away – only for Kurogane to grab his wrist under the draping red sleeve. “Hold it.”

Fai obligingly paused, and then came closer again when Kurogane pulled at him, stepping into easy reach once more as Kurogane picked something up from atop a nearby chest of drawers with one hand, his other hand cradling the back of Fai’s head. Fai suddenly wished the collar of his under-robe wasn’t so high; Kurogane’s hand was warm even through the cloth, but he wanted it against his skin, to match the soft closeness Kurogane had suddenly brought by pulling him in again. “Kuro-chii?”

“Hold still.”

Fai held still. Kurogane was busy with something, sweeping back the hair on the left side of Fai’s face and tucking it behind his ear, the tips of the ninja’s fingers gently scraping Fai’s scalp in what was probably an unintentional caress. Kurogane was so delightfully focused – a small furrow in his brow, burgundy-flecked eyes showing his concentration -; it was adorable.

Something was slid in, keeping the hair back, a slight weight on the side of Fai’s head, and he raised one hand, carefully investigating the new addition. His fingertips found something soft, fragile and sweet-smelling, vaguely familiar shapes twined around a metal comb. “Kuro-chan put flowers in my hair?”

Kurogane looked awkward, but didn’t step away. “Where I come from…we call them _ume _blossoms, but the kid calls them plum blossoms, and the manjuu apricot.” He lowered his hands eventually, apparently satisfied the comb would stay in place, putting them on the slighter man’s shoulders. “Whatever you want to call ‘em, they’re for good luck, and warding off evil.”

There was a long pause, the two men looking at one another in silence, before Fai smiled gently, tilting his head to the side, and let out one of his low, peculiar whistles. “_Hyuu, _Kuro-sama knows a lot about flowers, ne? Do ninjas learn flower-arranging?”

Kurogane made A Face. “…Shut up, idiot.” 

Fai’s smile grew – now more of a grin. “That’s a ‘yes’, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s a ‘shut up’.”

“I bet Kuro-ti was the best in his class.”

_  
“Mage -”_

Fai leaned up, and pecked Kurogane chastely on the cheek. As Kurogane’s mouth worked soundlessly for a few seconds, Fai smiled again, sincerely sweet. “Thank you.”

“…Hn.”

“Kuro-myu is blushing.”

“Shut up.”

 

#

 

The ground floor of Daidouji Sonomi’s home was awash with colour and light. Fine lanterns were hung up everywhere beside red streamers, delicate paper-cuts decorating the windows and walls with banners proclaiming themes of ‘love’, ‘luck’ and ‘happiness’ in the country’s elegant script. Syaoran smiled a little when he saw the language, tracing the characters with one finger before being spotted by Sonomi and swept into the main of the party. The eve of the lunar year was, in her _humble _opinion, no time for melancholy – it was easy to see where Tomoyo got her effervescent personality from.

The Daidoujis had invited a _lot _of people – friends, neighbours, relations. In one room people were watching some sort of countdown on a large television, in another someone had turned on a music player and one of what had to be Tomoyo’s friends was teaching Fai a certain type of dance. Kurogane was in the kitchen with some older gentlemen discussing alcohol, and Mokona was helping Tomoyo set the table in the main lounge, stealing more snacks than she actually managed to put out. Syaoran eventually settled for helping the two of them, Mokona delighted to have another conversational partner as she danced about amongst the dinner plates. A few people had asked questions about the little creature, but Tomoyo had only smiled, and passed Mokona off as a very high-tech toy prototype.

Dinner was a noisy, happy affair. The main meats available were pork, chicken and duck, but there was also fish – which Fai, as expected, passed on, until Kurogane dumped some on his plate and told him to eat it anyway, after some sage guy he’d been bonding with in the kitchen earlier – just what _had _they been discussing? – announced that it was for ‘surplus’ in the coming year. (“Besides, it’s _cooked, _you idiot.”)

There were noodles and rice, and large helpings of some kind of stew Syaoran smiled at and called _lo han jai, _even though some of the ingredients were a little different to what he’d eaten in it before. There were sausage dumplings – _jau gok – _and stir-fry, and a weird raw fish salad Syaoran called _yusheng _that Fai turned green at, leaving the room to go to the toilet and refusing to come back until Kurogane had finished eating his portion, ‘good luck’ be damned. Fai was more than willing to help himself to Kurogane’s candy box when he finally returned however, eating most of the ninja’s chocolate coins and candied fruit – though he thoughtfully gave the melon seeds and dried candied ginger to Mokona. Kurogane drew the line when the two attempted to thieve his oranges though; he could easily do without the fruit – but it was the _principle _of the matter, and he was surrendering his mandarins to neither man nor manjuu _however _much they whined and pouted at him. When Kurogane announced that Fai leaned across and murmured something in the man’s ear that had Kurogane offer up one orange almost immediately – Mokona of course queried just what it was Fai had said to get the orange and Syaoran tried to edge away from the discussion for fear of just what Fai might come out with, but Fai, for once, was being nice, and said it was simply that Kuro-daddy was ‘feeling generous.’

Towards the end of the meal most of the adults around the table started producing highly-decorated red packets and envelopes, passing them to the younger people at the table that they knew. Being new to the country – and to the _world – _Syaoran didn’t expect anything at all, and so was surprised when Fai touched him lightly on the arm, drawing his attention to the two gold-patterned packets he was offering the boy.

“I heard,” he said quietly, “that it was a tradition to do this for the young people here on this night. I’m not exactly familiar with the practice so I hope it’s not presumptuous, but someone was talking about it when we were in the market earlier, so Kuro-wan and I thought -” Fai broke off suddenly – Syaoran had bowed his head. “Syaoran-kun?”

Mokona trotted across from where she’d been investigating some sweet dumplings, laying a little paw on the boy’s hand. “Syaoran…”

Fai put the packets down when Syaoran clutched his chest. “Syaoran-kun, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to -”

The youth shook his head. “No…”

Fai looked at Kurogane, perplexed. ‘No’? Kurogane just looked at his student silently, waiting for an explanation.

“No,” Syaoran repeated, his voice low. “Please don’t apologise, Fai-san. I just…wasn’t expecting the gift.” He looked back up again, smiling, though his expression was wandering somewhere between warmth and pain. “I haven’t been given a red packet since I was very small.” He hadn’t been all that old before he’d left the world of his birth for Clow, after all. “Thank you very much. Kurogane-san too.”

Kurogane studiously looked away again, and pretended to be fascinated by one of the cuttings on the wall. “If it’s no problem, just take the damn packet already.”

Fai laughed softly at that and Syaoran carefully picked up the envelopes he’d been given. Fai distracted Mokona by giving _her _a small packet as well, letting Syaoran open his own two in peace. One had money in it – the current world’s currency -, the other sweets. There wasn’t a great lot of either – but to give more would’ve been pretty pointless. They shared what they had when they travelled, and if any of them needed or truly wanted anything, it was bought. It was the fact that he’d been given _anything _at all… Syaoran felt warmer as he sat there with the packets in his lap beside his friends (his family), still smiling that strange smile of happiness and hurt all in one, listening to Mokona sing a burbling song of thanks for her own envelope, Fai laughing, Kurogane muttering under his breath about noisy manjuus. He was thankful for them all, so much that he couldn’t ever put even half of it into words.

Fai had started to wave his finger in time to Mokona’s singing, a pretend-conductor. Kurogane groaned at the actions and glanced up, seeking some form of sanity, and caught Syaoran’s eye. The ninja saw the boy’s expression and nodded, once, before going back to griping at the two other members of their group.

There was so much Syaoran couldn’t put into words about the three he travelled with. It was alright though – he got the feeling they knew what he would’ve said, anyway. 

 

#

 

“Syaoran-kun came from a culture a lot like this one, didn’t he?”

Syaoran looked over at Fai where the man sat on the Daidouji’s porch nursing a cup of warmed sake in his hands. Fai wasn’t looking at him, attention seemingly captured by the firecrackers that were being lit further out in the garden, bright light and sound in the night. They cast shadows on Fai’s face – Fai certainly knew what it was to have a history. He wouldn’t mind if he didn’t receive an answer.

Somewhere behind him Syaoran could feel Kurogane standing, leaning against the wall of the house, a silent, firm presence. He probably had the bottle Fai’s sake was from – Syaoran had seen him confiscate it from Mokona earlier, when the rest of the party had been reminiscing about the year that was in passing, telling their stories. Their group had been rather quiet – their stories about the past year would’ve sounded remarkably odd. Kurogane wouldn’t demand an answer either.

So Syaoran answered. “…Father was born in a country like this, and mother from a Japan a lot like Watanuki-kun’s. When they got married, she moved. Uncle always made faces about that, because she was so far away.”

“Touya-kun?” Fai smiled absently when Syaoran nodded – Sakura-hime’s older brother had given them all the sharp end of his tongue more than once when they’d returned to visit the princess in Clow. Touya was Touya, it seemed, on every world.

“Here.” Syaoran suddenly found a cup put in front of his face by a tan hand, its contents sharply sweet. Looking up he saw the hand attached to a familiar body, Kurogane standing above him, brusque as ever. It seemed he really had held onto the sake bottle. 

Syaoran looked at him unsurely. “…Kurogane-san?”

“Just don’t start waving any ladles around the place,” the ninja grumbled under his breath, stepping back when the boy smiled slightly and took the cup from him.

“Silly Kuro-pon~,” Fai chided softly. “There aren’t any ladles about.”

“And _you _can shut up as well.”

Another firecracker went off. Syaoran heard Mokona ‘_ooo’_ing somewhere in the garden at the display, Fai laughing – still softly, softly – and saying something to Kurogane – the ninja had gone to stand over on his side of the porch, leaning against a column there. The sake burned the back of his throat when he swallowed it, resting warm in his stomach as a ward against the night’s chill. He wasn’t much of a drinker – his father hadn’t been much of a drinker either -, but which came first, the chicken or the egg? There’d be a middle ground someday – it was what he journeyed for, so that they could all stand together. So they could stand together, and sit and drink together, and together look up at the fireworks in the sky.

 

#

 

Kurogane ended up carrying Syaoran to bed.

Fai trailed behind, Mokona mumbling sleepily in his arms, as Kurogane led the way to Syaoran’s room for the night, nudging the door open with his elbow and taking the boy to bed. Syaoran was dead to the world – he really _wasn’t _a drinker -, sleeping on as Kurogane removed his shoes and loosened his outer robe before pulling the sheets over him. Fai, tactful, refrained from mentioning the fact that Kurogane really did make quite a good father, and tucked Mokona in beside her ‘brother’, before leading the way back to the room he’d been given to share with Kurogane.

It was just after six o’ clock in the morning. The lunar year changed at an odd time – between three and five in the morning, and the party had tiredly dispersed about half an hour after five to rest for the following day. It was still dark outside and the lanterns remained on in the garden, Fai moving to stand at the window and glance out at the line of lights hanging in the trees.

Kurogane silently joined him there, wrapping arms around the blond’s waist, the warm weight of him pressing down the length of Fai’s back.

“Not tired?” Fai shivered at the sensation of warm breath ghosting along the shell of his ear, Kurogane’s voice low in the night.

“Not really…” Fai leaned back into Kurogane’s chest, moaning softly when the other pressed an open-mouthed kiss just behind his ear, tilting his head to the side. “Nor ever likely to be if Kuro-chan does that again.”

Fai _felt _Kurogane’s smirk, the drag of lips across his skin as the ninja shifted his hands, attempting to loosen the sash around Fai’s waist. “It’ll be morning proper soon.” A last warning.

Fai hooked his arms around Kurogane’s neck behind him, leaning out a little so that the other could undo the knots keeping his sash up, the long strip of cloth fluttering lazily to the ground between them, a job well done. “Kuro-sama should keep it down then,” he told the man rather impishly, pulling Kurogane’s head down for a kiss, “so that he doesn’t serve as an early wake-up call for the rest of the house.”

“_Who _needs to keep it down?!”

“It’s a well-accepted fact,” Fai murmured when they pulled back for air, twisting about so he stood chest to chest with his lover, Kurogane’s hands deftly working at unwinding the delicate over-robe he was wearing and letting it go the way of the sash, “that Kuro-rin doesn’t come with a volume control.”

Kurogane growled at him – and then swore when he came into contact with Fai’s under-robe. “Why must everything you wear be as annoying as you are?!” Especially if there was a Tomoyo involved. If it wasn’t buttons, it was frills. If it wasn’t frills, it was lace, or buckles, or knots, or ties, or some other godforsaken frippery that took entirely too long to take off and _creased _when it wasn’t hung up properly or _tore _so that Fai always made large, mournful eyes about his ruined clothing, and said that Kurogane was such a _brute_. And there were always _layers, _each one just as irritating as the last.

Fai chuckled, amused at the frustration written clearly across Kurogane’s face – and then gasped when the other yanked him forwards again, smashed into the heat of Kurogane’s body as the ninja’s hands worked at the ties at the small of his back. Kurogane was semi-hard already; he could feel him through both layers of their clothes. “I felt,” his tongue always seemed to be a little clumsy in his mouth when Kurogane was that determined in the bedroom, his hands lax against Kurogane’s chest. Fai swallowed, and started again. “I felt it was important to keep up a theme.”

Kurogane snorted at that, but he seemed to have finally gotten Fai’s ties undone because he started stepping backwards towards the room’s bed, Fai still in his hold. The robes wrapped around Fai gradually unwound themselves as they walked, baring a sliver of his front, so by the time that Kurogane sat on the bed with Fai straddling his lap it was the work of a moment to push the lot off of the blond’s shoulders, a puddle of red on the ground, and attack the pale line of a throat with a hot mouth, Fai arching again when Kurogane ground up, hips encompassed by darker hands.

“You should wear red more often,” he said when Fai pushed him down flat on the bed, waiting as the other removed the flower-decorated comb from his hair.

“Oh~?” Fai leaned over his lover when he was done, his hands planted either side of Kurogane’s head. “Kuro-sama likes me in red?” He didn’t say anything about the interesting level of possessiveness that comment entailed – red was, after all, _Kurogane’s _colour – but drew a teasing line down Kurogane’s still-clothed chest until he touched the hardness below the other’s waist, once, twice, and Kurogane hissed, his own red eyes slitted and half-covered by dark lashes.

“…_Mage,” _Kurogane warned. Fai smirked – Kurogane was terribly easy to rile – and abandoned his play, leaning down to steal another deep kiss from the other man as his hand skimmed north again, deft fingers beginning to work on the rope and sash keeping Kurogane’s robes closed – only to frown after a few minutes, pulling away and looking down at the ninja’s waist.

Kurogane Did Not Understand the sudden loss of activity. _“What?”_

“Ah…” Fai glanced at him and suddenly the frown dissolved, a flicker of amusement taking over the man’s expression. Kurogane liked that even less. “We appear to have a problem.”

Kurogane _looked _at him.

Fai looked back at him, before hooking one finger under the rope around Kurogane’s waist and tugging on it. The fact the action dug the other end of the loop into Kurogane’s spine said the knot hadn’t come undone – when Kurogane looked down at it, it didn’t look like it would be coming undone anytime soon, either. Somehow, either through the day’s activities or Fai’s wrangling, the knot had constricted even more than it had been originally, with no edges left to be picked at to get it to loosen at all.

Kurogane _glowered. _“I told you it was too goddamn tight.” Fai laughed, so Kurogane pushed him off of him onto the bed, and stalked off to rifle through the room’s set of drawers.

His lover watched him, having rolled over to lie on his side. Kurogane tried not to look at him – currently, he was torn between wanting to kiss Fai and wanting to throttle him, and both activities were not conducive to getting his own clothes off. “Kuro-ti, what _are _you doing?”

“Scissors,” Kurogane explained eloquently, still digging around the drawers. There had to be some in one of them, didn’t there? It wasn’t like he could use Ginryuu to saw through the rope – for _one_, it would be an insult to the sword (and somehow, somewhere, Kurogane got the horrible feeling his father would hear about and die a second time in the afterlife either from mortification or laughing at his son’s predicament) and _two, _the sword was too bloody big (and wild horses would not drag that confession out of him out-loud). He’d as likely cut through his stomach as the rope.

“Kuro-kuro, really…”

Kurogane moved on to the last drawer, crouching down to get to it, not answering.

Fai sighed from the bed. “_Ku~ro-taaaaaan.” _

Kurogane ignored him. There didn’t appear to be any scissors in the drawers so he was going to have to try the bathroom –

Arms wrapped themselves firmly around his waist, a voice breathing into his ear, fondly exasperated. _“Kuro-sama.” _Gold hair tickled Kurogane’s cheek.

“Mage,” Kurogane replied fairly steadily, even if the sudden proximity to Fai got him bothered again – he _really _needed to find those scissors. He was a tower of inner strength and will –

And he groaned shamelessly when Fai groped him through his robes, already aching. Fai had his attention.

_  
“Mage,” _the title was bit out just a little more raggedly the second time around. “You better be planning on following through with that.”

“I will…” Fai nuzzled him soothingly, dropping one of his hands to the relative safety of Kurogane’s leg to brush the fabric there. “Just...stay still for a moment or two, alright?”

“Wh-” words froze in Kurogane’s throat when he saw the nail of one of Fai’s fingers suddenly lengthen, edging out into a sharp claw. This was delicately hooked under the rope holding Kurogane’s robes closed, sawing through once, twice, until the rope frayed and came apart. Kurogane was free.

Fai smiled, withdrawing his hands, and letting his nail return to normal. “_Voila~!”_

_  
“…Why,” _Kurogane growled, abruptly able to breathe and think better now that annoyance was out of the way, “didn’t you do that _before?!” _ 

“I was going to,” Fai pouted, rising to his feet, “but Kuro-chan left the bed in such a hurry I thought he was going to fetch something important. And then he wouldn’t listen to me – it was terribly disheartening.” Kurogane continued to growl, so Fai batted his lashes at him, coquettish. “Are you coming back to bed now?”

Damning himself _and _Fai, Kurogane went back to bed with him.

They both woke up horribly late the following day. It didn’t really matter – there seemed to be another miniature party going on downstairs again, and nobody noticed the two adults slipping into the kitchen for something to eat – that is, save Mokona, who decided to announce that ‘Kuro-daddy and Fai-mommy have had a _very_ auspicious start to the New Year!’ to a giggling Tomoyo, Syaoran blushing beside her. Kurogane promptly dove for Mokona, and she took off with a squeal.

Fai helped himself to a leftover orange, and sat beside Syaoran to enjoy it. “Happy New Year,” he said courteously, completely ignoring the havoc the other two members of their group were causing in the rest of the house.

“Happy New Year, Fai-san,” the boy replied, smiling slightly – and then he winced, hearing a loud _crash _from the other room, and Kurogane yelling.

It looked like it would be another interesting year of travelling.

**Author's Note:**

> \- The group are wearing clothing based upon traditionally _Han _Chinese styles in this. They’re a lot more…_flowing _than what you’d think of as being stereotypically Chinese-wear; truthfully, the styles are more closely related to Japanese kimono/yukata, due to the _Han _influence spreading in the East. Basic information on the style can be found here: <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Han_Chinese_clothing> and <http://www.chinancient.com/hanfu/>.  
> 
> \- The flowers Kurogane put in Fai’s hair: <http://farm1.static.flickr.com/19/112436872_b8639882a3.jpg>. They have many names, but the most popular is ‘plum blossom’. 
> 
> \- I’ve mixed up the traditions for this fic on purpose. Traditionally, families celebrating the New Year will have the dinner with their relatives and _then _throw a party for friends and everyone else, but I felt that left the group out in the rain a little, so to speak, so the order of the meal, story-telling, gift-giving and party are all out of order. Still, I hope the general feeling is generally the same.


End file.
